Burnt Orange by Melody Carlson

Author:Melody Carlson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Navigators
Published: 2010-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

twelve

I FEEL LIKE I’M WALKING A TIGHTROPE SOMETIMES, LIKE ONE MISSTEP and I’m toast. The problem is that I really want to continue being Claire’s friend. I mean, she’s fun and funny and exciting and kind of edgy. But at the same time, I don’t want to alienate Simi. Even though she’s kind of preachy and stuffy, I really do love her, and she’s been my best friend for years. But beyond that, I don’t want Simi or Lisa or any other youth-group kid to leak out that I’ve been hanging with the “wrong” kids, because I know that’s what they’re thinking. I also know they’re probably all praying for me like crazy I’m sure they think I’m some messed-up excuse of a Christian, like some demented sheep that has strayed from the flock and is about to become the big bad wolf ‘s dinner. I know that’s what they think. And in some ways, I’d just like to show them.

The good news is that I haven’t had a drink since the night Claire came to my house and we both got wasted. Even today when she insisted on taking me to Merenda’s for lunch and then offered to order two glasses of wine so that I could drink one with her, I refused. I was seriously tempted to have some wine—not because I wanted to drink it, although I might not have minded loosening up a bit, but because I thought it would feel kind of risky and grown-up to be sitting there drinking a glass of wine when someone like Haley or Stacy or Megan just happened in, which they didn’t.

But when Mrs. Bannister (the drama teacher) walked into the deli, I just about died right there on the spot. Claire’s back was to the door, so I tried to convey by eye contact that she better watch out. Claire, as cool as could be, picks up her wine glass (carefully so it’s in front of her and can’t be seen from behind) and downs it all in one long swig and then discreetly slips her glass into the foliage of the potted plant that was right next to her. Pretty smooth. But trust me, my adrenaline was rushing.

So now it’s time for the track meet, and by now I’ve broken down and told Claire that I don’t work today, so we’re planning to hang together. But I’m still getting this tightrope-walking feeling, like I’d better watch my step. I’m waiting for her at the entrance of the stadium so we can sit together, but I’m thinking she should’ve been here by now. Then I see her coming toward me. She’s got two soft-drink cups in her hands, but she’s not coming from the concession stand.

“I got you a Dr Pepper,” she says as she hands me my cup, “and I’ve got red licorice in my purse.”

“Cool,” I say as we begin to traipse up the stairs. But I have this feeling that I may not be carrying a straight Dr Pepper.

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